Check Mate
by Under.The.Crown
Summary: A small story of how force can be the only lead to seeing things differently. COMPLETE
1. Pawns Away

**_Hey guys! I'm back...again..._**

**_I know you'll wonder why this is so short; it's just an intro._**

**_Nothing else to say really...enjoy! 8)_**

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><p>Capter One: Pawns Away<p>

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><p>At first it was apart of my wolf training; sharpen my mind; give me the edge. Derek threw the box down on the floor, pulled Stiles over, and stated, "Stiles is going to play you in Chess once a day. When you lose, he gets one request, and you must do it." The emphasis he put on the final phrase was overly demanding, but what was I to do? Argue with my Alpha over something as simple as a couple games of Chess? So we began. I lost eight moves later.<p>

So on top of Stiles being Stiles, I had to deal with him outside of school and training because his requests were never anything easy. The first time I lost he forced me to compliment him. I don't even remember what I said, but I know it was bullshit. This entire situation was bullshit.

By the end of the first month, Stiles had won thirty times. Most were compliments, but lately they've been different. "Sit with me at lunch tomorrow; draw me a picture of something nice; give me a ride to and from school." His requests were starting to involve more effort.

I had fallen into a lull of absent minded follow through for quite some time, but then I realized I wasn't just following through. I started to go deep into these requests.

The picture started out as a stick person, but grew into hours of researching artists techniques online, which led to a full waterfall scene, complete with ripples on the water, trees, individual leaves, and me sleeping through most of my classes. I've sat with him everyday for the past week, which originally didn't include the conversations and confessionals we created. And I've driven him to school for the past two weeks, which I decided would involve me picking up some breakfast for the human.

I don't know how, but Stiles Stilinski had grown on me.

The next day we played, I lost again. I had grown okay with losing to Stiles. I looked up at him and asked, "What do you want?" No sarcasm, just a smile; this is where we were.

He chewed on his bottom lip so long I thought it was going to drop if of his face entirely.

His brown eyes looked up to me as he blurted out, "Take me on a movie date."

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><p><em><strong>What did you think? Too short? I agree! Which is why I usually write atleast 1,000 words minimum.<strong>_

_**The next chapter might be the "date," or I might save it for later reference and keep it a mystery. Let's face it, I'll end up saving it for later, most likely.**_

_**Until next time, have a good morning, day, night, and sweet dreams.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Under The Crown**_


	2. Riding the Elephant

**Here's chapter two! I feel I should tell you, that most likely, you will despise and hate the ending of the series. But I might make a sequel. Also, I'm thinking about placing a freeze on this series due to another story that I'm writing. It's about Lydia and I just realized that they are inter connected. So yeah...**

**I hope you like this chapter!**

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><p>Chapter Two: Riding the Elephant (The Rook)<p>

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><p>The "date," as Stiles called it, was...nothing less than amazing. The whole night was smooth as freshly polished ice. If I were to be honest instead of blunt, I'd say I loved it. I'll say this though, for a virgin, Stiles has one wicked set of lips. They tasted amazing. No wonder he was always running his tongue over them. After the night ended and I awoke on his living room couch, I realized that it was a new day, which meant it was time for a new chess game. Here I was, staring at an elephant, with no clue what to do with it.<p>

We boarded the bus with confusion as to why high school seniors were taking a field trip to the zoo, but without complaints. I saw Stiles sitting at the back and made my dash. Not that I needed to; Scott was sitting with Allison and Stiles sat in the loner seat.

I sat across from him and looked at the side of his head. He must have been oblivious to me, because the bus started moving and he still hadn't looked at me. I gripped his arm and pulled him into my seat, snaked my arms around his waist, and held on for my mother fucking life. It was scary as Hell up here atop this elephant. Hopefully holding onto Stiles would keep me from falling off.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he gently pressed a hand onto my chest.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Jackson, I'm not sure you know what a penny is."

I fished my hand into my pocket a poured out a penny. "This; they're lucky, right?"

"Yeah, if you pick it up, heads up, of the ground when you stumble upon it, but..."

"I found this exact penny seven days after my seventh birthday, seven days before I got adopted. It was made in '77. I did seven cartwheels in a row that day, before almost falling but being caught by Danny, who had turned seven that day. That's seven sevens; they're lucky."

He smirked and pushed away before whispering, "Looks like you're out of sevens."

I was baffled. How had I misread this situation? I was on the elephant with him. You don't just hop off of an elephant; whoever else is riding could get seriously hurt if you startled it. I refused to fall though; I'd regroup and get a game plan together. I don't care of it was new; there's no confusion, only Stiles.

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><p>Walking around the zoo alone in a small group was easy. The hard part was focusing on creating a plan when Stiles was nowhere to be seen. Worry was for those who had something to worry about. I was so sure Stiles was mine that worry only exists if he were in danger. Now the only thing left was to, well, show him he was mine.<p>

I detached myself from those who happened to follow me. I decided that the best way to obtain Stiles' trust in my honesty was to be blunt, per usual. I inhaled deeply, hoping, praying he was close enough to be found. Lions, tigers, bobcats, all pointless to my endeavor. Boy, girl, chocolate, peanuts, old lady, wait, chocolate, movie chocolate, like his lips. This was him. I knew it. There was honey mixed with this chocolate, it's impossible for it not to be. And there he was, looming over the wolves.

"Look at how the alpha just takes what he wants; the command; the retreat in the others pride. It's disgustingly beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

"I'm not a girl, complements won't get you in my pants."

"Exactly, so why would I compliment you if I didn't think it was true? You're a smart guy Stiles, so why don't you see how we mesh so perfectly?"

"Did you ever download chess onto your phone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"There's something I want."

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><p>"Stiles?"<p>

"I thought you were adventurous, Jackson? Don't tell me you're afraid?"

"The only thing I'm afraid of is you getting us caught."

"We won't; as long as you control that 'furry little problem' of yours."

Thanks to my loss, Stiles had me pinned to the back of a vendor's stand, his lips trailing my neck. That's when the rook toppled from the elephants back.

I opened my eyes at the sounds of frightened, flustered, and overly stressed animals. Derek Hale stood twenty feet away, eyes ablaze.

"Mine!"

At Derek's growl I bolted up, finding legs tightly entwined in a comforter. I was still on Stiles' couch. It was just a dream; just a nightmare. I'd be lying if I said this knowledge put me at ease. Tomorrow, I would talk to Derek. Tomorrow, I would talk to Stiles.

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><p><strong>I FORGOT TO SAY THANKS! Oh gosh, thanks so much for all the reviews, etc. Espeacially "The Phoenix Falls," who pointed a couple of errors. Stupid phone. No, I love Gideon. Yes, I named my phone. Let it go. <strong>

**Okay, it's awkward now... See ya!**


	3. Stomping Stud

**Real quick: make sure you have "February Air" by LIGHTS qued up to be played half way through the chapter.**

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><p>Chapter 03-Stomping Stud (February Air)<p>

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><p>Jackson never made his way to Derek, to talk about Stiles. He deemed it unimportant. When he left the Stilinski household early the next morning, he had forgotten all about it. He could smell Stiles and here his slow beating, sleep heart.<p>

The games of late had always ended with Jackson's loss and Stiles requests for small kisses when no one was around. This, what they had going, could only be private for now. No one was ready to know, and they weren't ready to tell. A kiss here; a kiss there; some heavy petting; that's how they worked in their own world of chess. They were safe here, they controlled the pieces; they chose the moves. They weren't playing against each other. The games quickly went from playing to win, to playing to be.

Then one day, it would all seem to change. Valentine's Day had just passed a week ago, and they were lying around the Hale house, relaxing in the warmth of the new heating system, exchanging seemingly hidden glances and quickly fading blushes; reclining on opposite couches, fighting to keep their emotions away from the other wolves moving around the house.

"Have you played today?" Derek announced as he strode in on the reclining young men.

"Uh, no. Not yet." Stiles admitted quickly. "We were going to play a little later. You know, when we could concentrate better; makes the game tougher."

Stiles looked to Jackson for back up but only found glowing emerald eyes darting from Alpha to himself.

"You'll play now."

The board was set, and the participants gathered. Then, for seemingly no reason, Derek rose and left the room.

"You need to calm down." Stiles whispered as he made his first move.

"Why?"

"Because your eyes are glowing."

"He was no right…"

"He has every right and you know it. He's the Alpha."

"But he isn't us, Stiles. He's not apart of this."

Stiles leaned across the chess board and placed a glancing kiss against Jackson's lips. "I know." He said as he retreated. "I know."

The game was played with an air of dread mixed with anxiety. It was off and sloppy as the pieces slid across the board. The rapid moving nerves served as the catalyst for the rushed movement of shaking hands. Any doubt that the Alpha could smell their fear was absent; any chance of the Alpha's judgment disappearing was amiss. The game had changed and it was no longer Stiles against Jackson. It was Stiles and Jackson against Derek.

In an uproar of fate twisting, Scott ran in, tripping over the edge of a more than conveniently placed rug. He caught himself swiftly; only he had landed on the table, forcing pawns and rooks from their respected, designated places, scattering them across the tightly wound quarters.

"Shit," Derek's curse barely a gruff whisper of disappointment. "Fine, Stiles, what's your request?"

Stiles looked at Jackson, hoping his longing to be gone from this newly born Hell danced across the air and into Jackson's mind.

"Umm, actually Jackson was winning." He got out. "Doesn't that mean he gets one? After all, it is his first win." His eyes never left Jackson's.

"What?" Derek scorned the thought.

"It's only fair."

"Fine."

"One?" Jackson asked, hope filling his body.

"One."

Jackson rose eerily, pulled Stiles up with him and slowly led him to the door. "Don't ever make us do that again." His words rebounded off of the facing exit, whispering threats into Derek's ears. He could feel his wolf still edging out as he drove away from the Hale property.

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><p>The two high school students found themselves walking hand in hand, in a deserted field out side town; the winter air, ever so slowly, chipping away at their warmth. Stiles closed the distance between them and leaned into Jackson's right side. His right hand cam up to hug on the arm that cradled the opposing appendage.<p>

"I can't believe you let me win."

"No, you were actually winning."

They walked on silence. Stiles rubbed his hand on his boyfriend's bicep.

"To be honest, I was scared. I don't know what was going on with him, but I could feel his amusement. It was sadistic. Then, when Scott caused the cease, I could almost taste his anger. I was hiding behind you. I'm sorry."

Jackson stopped and pulled Stiles into him; his head safely cradled in the wolf's pectorals. The steady, strong, hardy heartbeat couldn't be anymore soothing.

"What use would lycanthropy be if I couldn't protect the one I love? I don't care what his problem is, but if he ever scares you that much again…"

"You won't kill him. I wouldn't let you. Jackson, you may be my big stud, but you've never killed before, and if I can help it, you never will. It changes you. We may have thrown a couple bottles of liquid fire, but we didn't kill Peter. It's not the same."

Stiles gave into the shiver that had been nipping at his heels and felt Jackson pull him in tighter. He loosed a nervous laugh before whispering, "My arms are cold."

"It's okay because I'll never let you go. I'll never loose hold of us."

"You're my stud, huh?"

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><p>That night, as Jackson lie in his bed, Stiles balled cutely into his side, head on his chest, he thought upon his dream once more. <em>Does Derek want Stiles as well? <em>He couldn't help but cast his thoughts to the prior incident; Derek's smirk, cockiness, condescending tone; _had Derek been watching them through their entire engagement? _Stiles shuffled about next to him, placing light kisses onto his chest.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Us. Say it again."

"What?"

"That I'm your stud."

"I'm not saying it again."

"Say it."

"Or what?"

Jackson flipped them so that he hovered over the smaller, whose legs had already wrapped themselves around his waist.

"Or," a kiss to the collar bone, "I," a kiss to the neck, "rip your throat out," a kiss to the chin, "with my teeth." a kiss on the lips. His passion rising as they clashed, melting into one another.

"You're my stud; my big, strong, bucking, stomping stud."

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><p><strong>Hey guys, I'm so sorry thast this took so long. I've been sleeping with a cruel mistress who goes by the name of "Writer's Block." Man can she wear you out.<strong>

**As always, I truely hope you enjoyed this chapter. Send some love my way if you did.**

**Again, I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry about the timing.**

**Also, i hope you enjoyed the song as well. She's an amazing artist who deserves every bit of love she gets and more.**

**Until next time,**

**.Crown**


	4. La Fou

Chapter 04 – La Fou

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><p>Jackson lie in his bed, tossing a lacrosse ball back and forth, music smothering the air he breathed, as he thought of the past. His time spent with Stiles Stilinski had surpassed every piece of his life including happiness in two diagonal sweeps. His thoughts turned and the professional and serious white paint of his ceiling began to morph and mix with the posters on his walls, creating the image of a new memory.<p>

The memory of Stiles and himself standing in an empty as the snow gently fell. His arms tightly wrapped around Stiles' waist; Stiles' wrapped just as tightly around his neck; the February air blush mixing with their own heated versions. Their breath was so heavy they thought it had fallen as it was exhaled. Their smiles were wide and borderline Cheshire. They had only just begun, yet they were engulfed in years of each other.

Time seemed to cease its expanse when they were like this. The slow tick in Stiles' heartbeat let Jackson know he was comfortable yet happy. The surrounding air was eaten alive by his boys scent. He shuttered; not because he was cold, but because Stiles had licked his nose. Playful; that's the word that would go onto his list; Stiles was playful.

A smirked played its way across Jackson's lips, and a few seconds later pulled back to reveal a full blown grin at the positive recollection. _What had Stiles done to him?_ _More so, how had Stiles undone him?_ Undone; that word would also make is list; as that is what happened. He hadn't always been this way.

The ceiling began to morph again, mixing and remixing until it held the frame of the Beacon Hills High School locker room. The lacrosse team had just been let out of practice. There was Scott leaning changing at his locker, Stiles next to him. Jackson was glaring at the team's newest co captain. Spite, hatred, and a need to expose filled his eyes before they shifted to the hyper active sidekick. That's all this kid was; a sidekick; an annoying nuisance, who would never get anywhere. Not because he was daft; because he was literally a bumbling fool. He probably didn't even notice Scott was using him.

All Stiles would be through high school was the ADHD kid who had a thing for Lydia Martin. After high school, he'd be just another picture in the yearbook. The differences between him and Stiles were vast and unwavering. Success, promise, wealth, courage, all the things Jackson held that Stiles didn't. All the things Stiles could never hold. All the things that made Jackson stronger were vast and unwavering.

The music waved. His eye faltered. He was a wreck. He never paused to think about how things used to be between he and Stiles. Before they bedded each other, before they knew each other, he couldn't stand the slight thought that they would share the same room at some point during the day.

Stiles had made him transparent. His emotions were on display for anyone to view, and Stiles was the curator. He had grown accustomed to it, but suddenly the fear hit him and the thought of them possibly being wrong hovered in front of him. Teasing him; not too far, not too close; never letting Jackson know if he was right or wrong. With each increasing heartbeat, his room pulsed and expanded until all he saw was Black.

_Had Stiles also done this? Was he truly in Black?_ No. He Stiles couldn't have; he could be. His thoughts remained on Stiles, but Derek started intruding. That's whose fault this was. Derek was the reason for his depression. After every promise of protection and growth, Derek was dragging him into Black.

That condescending smirk; relaxed body language; amused tone of voice; Derek had been playing them for fools. They were his Pawns, his pack, why was he so willing to throw them away for a small laugh?

Jackson refused this title of _Pawn_. The pawns always moved first and that's what Derek had done. Derek had started this game, and when it came down to moves and strategy, Jackson had more than he knew how to hold. That and he had Stiles. Stiles was a war calculator, that's how Jackson knew Stiles had been letting him win. Jackson may have been the stud, but Stiles was the brains. The one who made no moves until absolutely necessary, the one who could command everyone while staying silent; Stiles was the strongest; Stiles was the Queen. Yes, Stiles was the Queen, Derek was the Pawn, and Jackson thought this made him the King.

Who cared what game Derek the Alpha Pawn was playing, he and Stiles would win. It would take a lot more than Alpha status to tear them apart.

Every fear Jackson hid away from childhood flooded his body with convulsions, his voice with wrecks, and his eyes with rain. His fear of not being good enough, granted to him by being adopted into wealth. His fear of being alone for his eternity, granted to him by his isolation so that he may focus on concurring the previous. His fear of rejection, granted to him from being put up for adoption at the age of three.

His heart clenched tightly with its supposed safe walls, causing his body to curl violently into a ball. His emotions had officially gotten away from him. They ran from him like everything else had. His birth parents, the friends he used to have, his spot as captain, and soon Stiles would run too. He would run right into Derek's arms, glad to be rid of the infantile weakling that was Jackson.

How hadn't he seen it? He was simply the tool of Derek's choice; the priming coat for his new wall. All he was meant to do was train Stiles to be ready for the Alpha. Derek had been calling all the shot by leading as the pawn. His body quaked harder with each new revelation. It was painful, physically, he was aching. His chest lost and gained weight under the struggle. His legs over stretched and cramped before shooting back to the unconsciously self destroying heart.

He had fallen for it all. Stiles really was the Queen, but Derek played the King. Derek was commander and leader. He had always been King.

Jackson realized his place as he fell onto his hardwood floor, the icy cold of it trapping him, holding him down. He was, what three years of French had taught him, _la fou_.

"La fou? La fou? What's wrong La Fou?"

The voice mocked him from behind his back, even more; it mocked him from his door. He felt the floor move and a hand touch his bare bicep.

"La fou, la fou," he chanted over and over. "La fou, la fou, la fou, la fou, la fou, la fou, la fou, la fou, la fou…"

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><p><strong>I didn't think I'd have to point this out, but Jackson's use of <em>la fou <em>instead of _le fou _is intentional. I'm playing even more, and slightly comically (to myself) on just how much of a fool he is right now. Iapologize to anyone who may have fouind this offensive or ignorant.**


	5. Of Kings and Queens

Epilogue-Of Kings and Queens

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><p>"And what happened next?"<p>

"I thought that part was obvious since I'm sitting in a wacky shack. I lost."

"What did you lose? Stiles?"

"What? No! Stiles _wasn't_ and _still_ _isn't_ a prize. I couldn't _lose _Stiles to Derek. I lost myself to Derek."

"How did you _lose _yourself to Derek?"

"Because I gave it to Stiles."

"Derek having Stiles means he has you?"

"Yeah, Derek has everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Your time is up."

Jackson rose from his chair and made it to the doorway before turning to the man that was paid to "undepress" him and giving a steely glare. If Derek had done anything right, he had taught Jackson how to be his own planet again. A planet made of rock with a solid core of diamond. His open sky blue button up flowing behind him as he made his way out to the silver Porsche he was known for. He would finish his senior year as he started it; alone.

Jackson left the pack immediately after Derek convinced Stiles that he was the better man. It wasn't right. So he left and never looked back. He didn't acknowledge any pack members during the school day and focused harder on his future career in lacrosse. All he had now was a need to impress the world. He would be the reason they added the sport back into the Summer Olympic Games.

He passed to Scott, knowing that it could only help him; made kissy face with the team when it came time to be badgered by the press; even did interviews for the local news about _The Duo Who Couldn't Be Beat_. Then he would leave. His life became more shut out than it had ever seen before. He was a lone wolf, right down to the full moons rays.

He would get home now, and be asked, "How'd it go, Jackson Sweetie?" he would just continue on up to his room and lock the door with the lock he replaced while his parents were at a conference in San Antonio. And when he graduated, he'd leave, never look back, and leave every piece of Beacon Hills behind. They loved him here, but he didn't care. Nothing compared to the love he shared with Stiles for their brief time together.

It was too short, too young to die. He would never be the same. Like their love, he accepted that this life of his would end abruptly and untimely for those involved in it. Shut them out now and the blow won't hit them as hard. Shut them out now and he can drown under the crown he never wore.

His bedroom window opened as he lit his seventh cigarette of the day. It was his, he could smoke and no one could stop him. Inhaling smoke, his clam extended and ripped through the flesh he knew couldn't scar. He watched and waited until in knit back together and repeated his actions, his blood dripping into the bucket he had bought for this specific purpose. "_One more time," _he thought, and dug his claw through until he felt bone, angled his wrist and slid through. He was done. He knew from a failed attempt that he wouldn't die from this, so he stood and smoked until his arm fully healed an hour later. The best thing about being a werewolf had become the fact that matte how self destructive he was, he could never destroy himself.

He pretended not to notice, that the looks weren't there, but he knew them well. Stiles' look of forlorn love drove him deeper and deeper into Black. He was back and didn't plan on leaving.

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><p>It was a light night in Beacon Hills when Jackson left the liquor store to notice note on his car. Messy print had scribed <em>I don't like how you smell anymore. It's disgusting. Fix yourself. Please.<em> He lifted the note and saved it, he would need it tomorrow.

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><p>He walked right up to the table and waited until everyone's were on him. Glaring for an extra minute until Stiles manned up and met his gaze. Their faces of shock and disbelief, his of steel power and control, he leaned forward, gracing them with his presence, slid his palm against the suddenly frozen table and smirked. He retreated, knowing it would take time for them to stop watching him. He didn't even look back. He was his own Alpha and they knew his strength. If not, they would.<p>

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><p>He arrived home late, what his parents called late, and trucked up to his room. That's when he noticed it, a scent in his room, his palace, that didn't belong there. He unlocked the door and gently pushed it open. This intruder could do nothing to him. He wasn't strong enough.<p>

"McCall." He stated as he tossed his jacket into his closet.

"Jackson."

"Explain yourself before I chuck you through the window I assume you entered through."

"What's been going on? You haven't been anywhere near us, avoided our calls, and out of nowhere you show up at our table. What are you doing Jackson? What game are you playing?"

"I said to explain yourself, not ask me questions. If I wanted that…"

"You'd go to the shrink of your own free will. Yes, we know that much."

"Up until now you all have been smart to leave me alone, I suggest you continue to do so."

Jackson was calm, he knew that Scott was an emotional wreck right now, and that only soothed him further. He could hear Scott's nervousness escaping rapidly from his chest. Yes, Jackson truly was the kings here.

"I can't. You left the pack and that's too dangerous. You'll die."

"Good!" Jackson gritted in order to keep his parents from racing up to find why he was yelling. "You don't like my smell? Why? Because the mixture of smoke and blood is a little too close to death for you? Get the fuck over it. I'm not going to rejoin the pack."

Scott stood stark still, mouth agape and eyes on Jackson.

"Yes, Scott, I know you put the note there. That's why I leaned over _your_ shoulder. I'm not going back with you. I lost _him _there; I don't even know him anymore, so it's pointless."

"Stiles isn't the only member of the pack, you know. And besides, he and Derek aren't even together."

"Damnit, it's not about Stiles. It's about me. So let that go. I have."

Scott turned towards the window and set a foot out before twisting his neck and saying, "You aren't the only one in pack either."

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><p><strong>Hey guys, this is it. I know I didn't prepare you for it. Well, that's because "Of Kings and Queens" was originally planned as a three part thing. When I sat down to write, this struck me like a wall hits you when it knows you aren't expecting to jump out at you. But, alas, there will be a squel; "Across the Board" is the working title. But be sure to PM me with what kinds of interactions you wouod like to see between the charters. And vote on the pole as too which theme you would like it to be. you can pick three out of five, and if what you want isn't there, just PM it to be and I'll tally it in.<strong>

**Thanks for taking the time out to read this story. I reall appreciate it. 8)**

**Until next time,**

**.Crown**


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